A Moment of Prayer at the Gas Pump

Earlier today in Deweyville, while I was fueling up my boat, a man walked toward me. His expression said everything before he spoke — a tired, beaten-down look you only see on someone who has endured more than most people ever will. In a low voice, he asked me if it was time yet… if he could finally return home. I had to tell him he couldn’t.

When he heard my answer, his whole body seemed to deflate. Then he began sharing his story. This wasn’t his first disaster. He had already lost everything once before — and managed to rebuild his life from the ground up. But this time, he said he was terrified of losing the one thing he still had: his daughters.

He’s been sleeping in his truck. Yet he didn’t request money, sympathy, or handouts. What he wanted was a job. He’s a welder, with his own tools and truck, just looking for a chance to keep providing for his family — to keep them together.

One of the officers with me quietly snapped a picture of the two of us standing there at the pump, heads lowered, my hand resting on his shoulder as we prayed. Seeing that image now reminds me of something important: we can’t solve every problem, but we can show up for one another.

He told me his faith feels shaken. So I’m asking you — hold him in your prayers. And pray for everyone out there quietly trying to rebuild a life, carrying burdens most people never see. Hard times test faith, but kindness, solidarity, and community can help carry us through.